


He's in a Better Place Now

by icandrawamoth



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Survivor Guilt, badthingshappenbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: When Wedge comes back to the house they've chosen to spend the night in, there's fresh blood on his shirt. He's carrying his pistol at arm's length like he can barely stand to have it near him, and no one could miss the haunted look in his eyes.





	He's in a Better Place Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphorisnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorisnt/gifts).



> Betsy sent me some of those Tumblr ship questions, one of which included zombie apocalyse au, so here's zombie apocalypse au. You're welcome. Also for badthingshappenbingo square "survivor's guilt."

When Wedge comes back to the house they've chosen to spend the night in, there's fresh blood on his shirt. He's carrying his pistol at arm's length like he can barely stand to have it near him, and no one could miss the haunted look in his eyes.

“It's done,” he whispers, and it's like the air has been sucked out of the room.

Hobbie lets out a helpless wail, and the rest of their friends crowd around him to offer what little comfort they can.

Tycho goes to Wedge, takes the gun from his hand and tucks it into his waistband alongside his own. He touches Wedge's arm wordlessly and isn't surprised when he flinches away.

“I–” Wedge begins, then stops to swallow painfully. “I should–” He looks over at the group but doesn't make a move toward them.

“You should sleep,” Tycho says quietly, as if he actually believes Wedge will get any rest with this on his conscience.

He watches his partner's face twist as his eyes flash closed before he gets hold of himself, wrenches back his composure. “We should do another sweep. To be safe.”

“All right.”

Even as they move through the rooms looking for threats – undead or otherwise – Wedge doesn't ask for the gun back, and Tycho doesn't offer it. They've already been through once, and Tycho is certain they won't find anything, but he sees Wedge's need to stay busy, to be helpful.

Eventually, they end up in the upstairs bedroom they've claimed as their own. Wedge sits listlessly on the edge of the bed as Tycho digs in his backpack. He comes up with a can of beans and a spoon and offers them to Wedge.

“You need to eat.”

Wedge nods wordlessly and accepts the food, numbly putting spoonful after spoonful into his mouth.

Tycho wants to make him talk, wants to speak of his own feelings, but he doesn't want to hurt Wedge more. He knows he's hurting so much already.

Wedge manages to down half the can of beans before handing it to Tycho finish the rest. He's nearly done, the food tasteless in his mouth, just a vessel for calories he knows he needs to keep moving and survive, when Wedge cracks.

It's quiet at first, barely a sniffle. Just enough time for Tycho to feel his heart twist, to put the can down, before he breaks into full-on sobs.

Wedge presses his hands to his face, his entire body shaking with the force of his grief and horror. When Tycho wraps an arm around him, he can feel how hard he's trembling.

“Wedge–” he murmurs, and he doesn't know what else to say. There's nothing he can say to make this better.

“I killed him, Tycho,” Wedge gasps, the words barely understandable.

It takes Tycho a minute to get out a response as he swallows back his own emotions. “You had no choice, Wedge. One he was bitten, we all know what would have happened. Wes knew.”

The hands drop, and Wedge looks at him, his face utterly shattered. “He was afraid. He wouldn't say, but I could tell. He didn't want to die. And I–” He looks down at his hands, utter horror in his expression, and Tycho wonders if he'll ever be able to see them the same way again.

Tycho reaches out, clasps one of them in his own. “Talk to me,” he whispers. “I know you stepped in and took responsibility for him so none of the rest of us would have to. You don't have to carry that alone. Please.”

Wedge clutches at his hand, leans against him heavily, turning his face into Tycho's shoulder for long moments as he breathes raggedly. “He said he forgave me,” he whimpers finally. “He said – he said not to blame myself.” A broken sound falls from Wedge's lips. “He thanked me for not letting Hobbie do it.”

Tycho pets his hair so, so gently. “You've always been the kind to sacrifice for the team. God, Wedge, I don't know how you do it.”

“Like this,” Wedge sobs, throwing up his free arm helplessly. “ _This_ is how strong I supposedly am. I shot one of my best friends dead so he wouldn't turn into a monster. And I feel like I deserve to be lying there next to him.”

“ _No_.” Tycho pulls away, pulls Wedge upright and stares into his eyes. “Wedge, _no_. I know this is hard for you to believe. You lost a friend today – we all did – but you did the right thing. He would have become one of those things. He would have, there's no question. We know there's no coming back from that, and Wes didn't want to live like that.”

Wedge's face crumbles again, and Tycho pulls him in, holds him close against his chest. It's so painful to even picture Wes as one of those things. Shuffling along, dead behind the eyes, dead in every way that counts. They'd all agreed weeks ago what they would do if one of them was infected. They'd just never actually imagined they would have to make good on that plan.

“I keep seeing his face,” Wedge whispers. He clutches desperately at the back of Tycho's shirt. “He was scared, but at the last minute...when I was p-putting the gun to his head...I think he looked relieved.”

“You helped him,” Tycho tells him, and though the words make him shudder inside, he knows they're true. “Not just to not become one of those things...you helped him escape.”

Wedge chokes on a sob, presses himself closer to Tycho. “I don't want to think he was the lucky one. It's too awful.”

Tycho holds him as tight as he can. “He was.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Be With Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379870) by [icandrawamoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth)
  * [Shadow of Death](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553090) by [thedarlingone (Curuchamion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curuchamion/pseuds/thedarlingone)




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